


Country of...

by LadyAquatica



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Other, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 07:13:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3969109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAquatica/pseuds/LadyAquatica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything has a contradiction. Every pro has a con.<br/>As you look up to the nation next to you, you see both.</p>
<p>That's how it started out anyway.<br/>Hetalia shorts and drabbles. <br/>{ReaderxVarious}</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Country of Passion: Spain

**Author's Note:**

> Also on Lunaescence. And from 2009. >.>

He was the country of passion.

You saw the passion in his eyes as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear. You felt the passion coursing through his veins as he brushed tender kisses across your skin. You knew of the passion he felt in his love for you.

But passion is also hate and fury. War.

You saw the flames burn in his eyes and the rage surge through his body. You saw a conquistador. You felt the intensity of his wrath. You knew of the blood he had drawn, the people that he had slain. You hoped you would never have to see this side of your love.

But you felt safe. You knew that he would always be passionate in his love for you. You knew that he would never let a soul touch you. He would always keep you safe. He would fight as he did as a conquistador to make sure no one would lay a hand on you.

For now, you would be content with his love. As you pressed yourself closer to his body, you felt your heart flutter. Gentle kisses were strewn across your temple. Green eyes met yours with his passion evident.

“I love you.”


	2. Country of Love: France

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also on Lunaescence.  
> Hello to my 2009 writing.

He was the country of love.

He loved you. He loved to shower you in affectionate kisses and tender touches. He loved to say “You’re beautiful.” He loved to see your smile. He loved to be the one to comfort you. He was patient. He was kind. He knew your flaws and he looked past them. He didn’t care what the world said. He loved you.

And you loved him.

But even as he whispered sweet promises into your ear, you felt doubt. Didn’t he love to fight with England? Didn’t he love to flirt? He loved Jeanne. He loved his colonies.

His arguments with the Brit amounted to nothing. His flirting got him nothing but slaps. Jeanne didn’t live to see 20. And his colonies? They were gone. What would happen when you turned around? Would you be replaced as well?

“Ma chère, what’s wrong?”

You avoided his eyes. “Nothing cher. It’s nothing.”

“Ma belle, you can tell me.” A gentle grip forced your head up, making your eyes meet his.

“Francis…” You were hesitant. “What happens when I’m gone? Will you replace me?”

“You’ll never be replaced ma fleur.”

“But what of Jeanne? You loved her too!” You regretted saying that.

His blue eyes were downcast, a bittersweet smile on his lips. “It’s true that I loved her. She was strong and defiant. She fought for me. I still do love her.”

You were going to retort when he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Allow me to finish belle. I love you too ma chère. I always will.”


	3. Country of: Romano

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also on Lunaescence. And again from 2009.

You watched as he flirted with a girl off the street. His face was pulled into a handsome smile as she giggled. He whispered playful words into her ear, smirking as she blushed. But as she shook her head no and left, you saw his lips twitch downward. He clenched his fists, disappointed. Sighing, he walked back into his empty house, dejected.

He was always second best compared to his brother. Everyone loved Feliciano. Feliciano was the one that got everyone’s attention. He was just an afterthought to everyone.

Except for you. You didn’t care what the others thought. They could say what they wanted. To you, Lovino was everything. When he fell, you helped him up. But he brushed off your help. He ignored your sweet smiles. He was a gentleman to women and irritated by other men. But he paid no heed to you. You wished he would talk to you. Even being yelled at was better than the silence you received. Why wouldn’t he talk to you? Why did he act as if you weren’t there? That was it. You were done with waiting.

It had started to drizzle lightly as you knocked on the door. After waiting several moments and hearing nothing but the rain, you tried the doorknob. Finding it open, you grew worried and let yourself in, locking the door after you.

“Lovino?” You wandered around the house looking for him.

As you reached the top steps of the stairs, you heard quick footsteps. You called out again only to be met with more. You ran after the sound. As you rounded the corner, you saw a flash of brown and tan. You sped up, cornering him.

As you stood, your breath heavy, he avoided your eyes. Your body shook, your emotions running rampant. “Why?” Your voice wavered. Tears welled up behind your eyes. “Why don’t you talk to me? You pretend that I’m not even there!”

He cringed at your words. He retaliated weakly. “Why do you even bother? Just go to my brother like everyone else does.”

You froze. That’s what this was about? “Lovi-”

“The only reason anyone would even bother with me would be to get to Feliciano. So just go.” His voice shook as tears ran down his face. “That’s why right? Just go!”

You slapped him. He froze, eyes wide. He stared at you in disbelief, as you took a deep breath. “Is that really what this about Lovino?”

“Why else would you be here?” He murmured weakly.

“Because I love you.”

His eyes shot up and met yours, only to see tears.

“I love you and I hate it when you say those things Lovi. You’re more than that.”

He watched as the tears slid down your face. Did you really mean it? But what about Feliciano? Looking at your face, he made his decision.

Wiping away your tears gently, he pressed his lips to yours. For you, he’d try to overcome his insecurities. Only for you.


	4. Land of the Free and Home of the Brave: America

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also on Lunaescene. And also from 2009, as you may be able to tell from the content. Also, very very terrible.

In his country, freedom was not completely free. In his land, the brave were not completely brave. His national anthem said that it was “the land of the free and home of the brave,” but actions speak louder than words.

Only five of his fifty states allowed gay marriage. Gay couples would never truly be free in their love. For a land of freedom, freedom was hard to find.

So many people hide behind a screen. They would tease, demean, humiliate behind a screen. They would terrorize behind a screen. They were cowards. For the home of the brave, bravery was hard to find.

But in his home, hidden away from the grey reality, you are truly free. You are free to love him in any way. You are truly brave. You are brave enough to tell him to never let go. You are free to love his every bright smile. You are free to love his deep cerulean eyes. You are free to love him and brave enough to admit it.

In his home, he is free and he is brave. He is free to love you, to kiss and caress you. He is brave enough to push away reality for a moment and say he only cares about you. He is free to lay with you, to comfort and hug you. Anywhere at any time at all, he could be brave enough to say aloud, “I love you.”

He envelops your form now, kissing the crown of your head. He holds you close and vows to never let go. You are free at last from the long day of reality. You are free at last, allowed to love him and for him to love you.


	5. Tired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No particular character specified for this one, though I had America in mind when I wrote it.  
> Inspired by George McGovern's "I'm tired of old men dreaming up wars for young men to fight."  
> Also on Lunaescence, but more recent.

He’d seen it hundreds of times. They all had. 

He watched as the young men, kids really, lined up for inspection. They were bright-eyed and naïve. They wanted to fight for their country, to defend their nation with honor, to make their country proud, never to die for it. 

But that’s what always happened. They would die one way or another for their nation. Some would die in foreign lands, alone and so very far away from home. Others would die in spirit, coming home with minds scarred beyond belief. Then there were the ones that died many times over, the ones that relived their nightmares for years and years afterward.

He was so tired of it. So so tired. Tired of watching his children give up their lives. Tired of watching them wither away. 

Tired of saying goodbye.


End file.
